Those Stumbling Words
by misqueue
Summary: Set between 4x11 "Sadie Hawkins" and 4x12 "Naked". In a phone call after the Sadie Hawkin's dance, Kurt has something to tell Blaine. For klaineadvent 2013 prompt #6 Falter. Angst, Drama. Part 6 of the series: Scenes During the Break Up. Mention of Kurt/Adam.


Title from the lyrics of "These Foolish Things" a song covered by a long list of artists including Bryan Ferry.

Assumes Christmas went down as per my 4x10 set fic, "Time to Dissolve" (on AO3). This advent series seems to be working its way into my canon 'verse, The Architects of Life (also on AO3), but should continue to stand alone.

* * *

**January 2013**

In Blaine's bedroom, Bryan Ferry's voice lilts and jaunts over the piano and horn of "These Foolish Things". Blaine sings to his reflection in his dresser mirror as he unknots his tie. A smear of Tina's lipgloss glints pink on his cheek, and the screen of his phone is lit with a text from Kurt: "Enjoy the dance! Call me when you're home?" Blaine's intestines feel as if they're working through _Knots: The Complete Visual Guide._

_"Oh, how the ghost of you clings_  
_These foolish things_  
_Remind me of you,"_ Blaine sings to Kurt's portrait. He does a twirl as he pulls his tie free of his collar.

He feels like laughing. A few hours ago, he felt like crying. Too much muchness is stuffed into his chest and head, and he needs to release the surfeit of emotion somehow. But at the same time, none of the fullness is soothing the itchy restlessness vibrating deep in his flesh. He aches for something more familiar and more comforting. He hangs up the velvet suit jacket and his tuxedo trousers, sits to unbutton his shirt and pull off his socks. Once he's down to just his undershirt and briefs, he launches himself onto his bed, belly first, and picks up his phone.

It's only eleven, and he knows the connection he needs to make.

Kurt picks up immediately. "It can't have been that good a night if you're home an hour before your curfew. I hope Tina behaved herself."

Blaine heaves a soft laugh along with an, "I _missed_ you tonight," that comes out far more breathless and desperate than he means it to.

There's no immediate response from Kurt.

"I'm sorry," Blaine blurts. "That maybe came out wrong? I—"

"It's okay," Kurt says. "I've spent most of this week missing you, too."

"You have?" Blaine thrills to hear it.

"Everything's so new at NYADA, and Rachel's been busy with Brody, so I've been on my own. There've been a lot of things I'd like to have shared with you, you know, _live_, as they happened. That's why you've been getting so many texts and photos." The warmth in Kurt's voice lets Blaine imagine he's smiling.

"I've enjoyed getting your texts and photos," Blaine says. "So you're doing all right?"

There's a noncommittal sound from Kurt. "Yeah, I think so. College is remarkably not unlike High School in a lot of ways, and it's weird. I didn't expect that so much? To be feeling... on the outside again. Honestly, Blaine? I've been feeling lonely this week."

_Oh._ Blaine rolls to his back and cradles the phone with both hands near his cheek; he closes his eyes. "I'm sorry you're lonely, Kurt," he says softly. "I'm here for you now."

"I know," Kurt says, warm again.

And it feels, as the silence stretches between them easy with affection, that they're sharing a moment of perfect concord.

"What can I do? Do you want to Skype?" Blaine asks. "Watch a movie?"

"It's late," Kurt says. "Could you maybe just tell me about your evening? Like, what did everyone wear? How did the music go? Indulge my homesickness a little bit?"

"Yeah, sure," Blaine says. "I have good news, and I have some photos on my phone. I'll send them to you now, so you have visual aids. Just a sec, let me just—" Blaine pulls the phone away from his face so he can tap through to the photo gallery.

"_Wait_. Blaine?" Kurt interrupts, his voice tinny, small, and urgent.

Blaine brings the phone back up to his ear. "Hmm?"

Kurt's sigh rushes static through the line. "There's something I need to tell you first."

Hope wells up in Blaine's chest. Maybe Kurt's missing him this week means Kurt's found his way to forgiveness, and maybe the time they spent together at Christmas has helped show Kurt that he can still trust Blaine. "You can tell me anything," Blaine reassures him.

But the tone of Kurt's next words doesn't reassure Blaine: "Yeah," Kurt says, and he almost sounds glum. "You told me I could tell you, and I really feel like I should. You should know."

"Okay?" Blaine says.

"I, um?"

He sits up, goes cold. "Just tell me, Kurt."

"I met someone," Kurt says.

Three simple words stun Blaine into silence. His Roxy Music playlist has shuffled its way to "To Turn You On" and the song expands and intrudes, growing too loud and too heavy with memory and shared daydreams, of singing with Kurt and being sung to in their intimate moments, as Ferry croons:

_"Is it raining in New York_  
_On Fifth Avenue?_  
_And off Broadway after dark_  
_Love the lights don't you?"_

In the absence of a reply from Blaine, Kurt continues, haltingly, "Uh, he's the head of the Glee club here. The Adam's Apples. He's handsome and funny... and kind, and I think— I think he really likes me."

_"I could walk you through the park_  
_If you're feeling blue_  
_Or whatever... "_

Blaine gets up and jabs his iPod to silence, and then he grabs his dressing gown, pulls it on to banish the new chill from his bare arms and legs. He should say something, but his tongue feels like clay.

"Blaine?" Kurt asks, frail and uncertain.

"Um, so you like him too, then?" Blaine manages; he holds his phone between his ear and his shoulder and ties the sash too tightly, with quick, sharp jerks.

A relieved huff of breath, and Kurt says, "I think maybe I could? I like the way he smiles at me. He told me I look like a young Paul Newman. I asked him out to coffee, and he said yes."

And just like that, Blaine feels like crying again. He shouldn't. He's the one who fucked up, and he's the one who let Kurt go. He told Kurt they were friends—best friends—and Kurt could tell him exactly this sort of thing. He's got no stake in Kurt's love life anymore. They're friends. They're _friends. _

"Are you okay?" Kurt asks.

"That's great, Kurt. I'm happy for you." Blaine says because that's what he's supposed to say.

"Yeah?"

Blaine makes himself smile, if only for his own sake. He's sad for himself, but he can be—he _will_ be—happy for Kurt. "Yeah."

"Okay, good. I know this is... _so_ weird, but I didn't want it to be like I was keeping a secret from you."

"No, thank you for telling me."

Another pause. "So, you said you had good news and photos?" Kurt asks, a tentative entreaty.

They talk, and Blaine tries to feel the connection to Kurt he wants and misses, but it's different now. Something unfamiliar, something cooler. He doesn't even feel it when Kurt gushes over the cut of his dinner suit and tells him he looks gorgeous in velvet. Blaine looks at the photos of himself with Tina, looks at the photos of Sam and Brittany, listens to Kurt's voice, and all he can feel is foolish.


End file.
